


Two Can Play

by Janelle



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5903071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janelle/pseuds/Janelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life would be so much easier if Kurt enjoyed watching the Super Bowl, but Kurt hates watching the Super Bowl. A lot. {Not Exclusive !ficlet}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Can Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [typegirl19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/typegirl19/gifts).



> This is something short and quick I wrote for my dearest friend Jane's birthday! It's sort of in the Not Exclusive AU setting, but I don't think you'd have to read that to enjoy it. Like I said, short, flirty, funny. Set somewhere in their last year of college, I suppose. Probably doesn't make any sense that they're in Ohio in February when they're college students, but who cares. It's a fun one-shot. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JANE. Hope you like it.   
> Sorry for mistakes.

Kurt had lost count of the amount of times he’d rolled his eyes that afternoon. He expected that this would be one of the most annoying days in the history of their relationship, but he didn’t want to be proved right.

Blaine, his father, and Finn; they were all proving him right.

Super Bowl Sunday had always been the Holy Day in the Hummel household. For a long time, Kurt put up with all the hoopla, mostly because he didn’t want to disappoint Burt, but also because his dad was the only person he had. Spending time with him while he shouted at the television and stuffed nachos down the hatch was time he knew he wouldn’t regret when they were older.

But now. Now there were _three_ of them. Finn was probably worst of all. He wore his favorite football jerseys and had that foam finger and jumped out of his seat a lot. He also did that thing where he complained to the referee, as if he wasn’t on his sofa in an entirely different state. Burt was a bit more laid back, but he did talk a lot of trash as he sat back in his recliner with a beer in one hand and a bowl of salty snacks in the other.

And then there was Blaine. Kurt didn’t really want to complain about his boyfriend’s annoyingness right now because Blaine looked _really_ good in the burgundy cardigan he was wearing, and that University of Florida cap that was backwards on his head.

But _still_.

Sure, Blaine and Finn were on the football team, so it was expected that they’d be into the sport, but Kurt didn’t think he could tolerate all the guys in his life going insane over a bunch of men in tights dragging one another to the ground. Well, when he put it that way, it didn’t sound _too_ bad. But it was.

He was bored out of his mind.

And as Kurt listened to Blaine tease his father about an ‘inception’ or whatever it was called, he rolled his eyes again. There were a hundred things he’d rather be doing right now, like watching an Eddie Murphy movie, or screwing his boyfriend, or watching the Puppy Bowl. This just wasn’t cutting it.

Finn jumped up and shouted “TOUCHDOWN” as loud as he possibly could. It made Kurt jump a little. He sucked his teeth as Blaine laughed at him. They were really about to go back to being not exclusive in a major way if Blaine kept laughing at him. Kurt reached for a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table—or as Finn had dubbed it for today’s events, “Junk Food Island,” and winced at all of the butter covering it.

“You seem agitated,” Blaine said, smiling a bit when Kurt looked over at him. Kurt put the bowl back down and forced a smile.

“Me? No way. What would give you that impression?”

Blaine nudged Kurt’s knee with his own and did that thing where he bit his lip. Kurt made sure to ignore it.

“You love football, babe. You always come to our games and cheer us on.”

“You and I both know that I only come to support you and to stare at your ass in those tights,” Kurt replied without missing a beat. “If you’re not in it, I’m not in it. I could follow the game if I wanted to, but this is dreadful—”

“Look at that, Anderson! Fumble on a return kick.” Burt laughed as he said it, slapping five with Finn. Blaine turned and looked at the television in what could best be described as shock and horror before dragging a hand down his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

Kurt decided that he’d just sit there for a couple hours and feign interest, and perhaps after this he could get an actual dinner with his boyfriend that didn’t include cheese or barbecue sauce.

But after five hours had passed, the second quarter began.

Kurt wanted to pull his head off and toss it somewhere he was so disinterested in what was going on around him. Between all the shouting and the soda Blaine had just accidentally knocked over mid-cheer and spilled onto the cute giraffe socks he was wearing, Kurt decided that he needed a break.

Blaine apologized a few more times before Kurt told him it was fine. He gestured that he was going down to his old bedroom in the basement to change socks, but Burt knew better.

“See you in a couple hours,” his father said.

True.

Upon further inspection when Kurt was down in his room, he realized some of the cherry soda splashed onto his pant legs as well. He took them off and tossed them into the hamper, along with his wet socks, took a quick five-minute shower, then returned to his bed in nothing but a deep scoop neck shirt and some checkered boxers.

Screw the boring Super Bowl and ridiculous Doritos commercials. Kurt was going to pop _The Devil Wears Prada_ into his DVD player, get comfy in bed, and text somebody interesting like Mercedes. He’d scroll through the fashion blogs and comment on a few posts, and do things that were actually fun.

Even as the movie began, Kurt could still hear Finn a floor above chanting _‘defense’_ at the top of his lungs. He plopped down in bed, covered up, grabbed his phone, and distracted himself from the macho nonsense happening in the living room.

Ah. A blog post about Marc Jacobs. This was the life.

**From: Blaine**

_I hope you’re not mad at me :/ It’s Finn’s fault for not closing the soda bottle._

Kurt smiled at the text message before sending back a quick reply.

**To: Blaine**

_I’m not mad at you. Watch your stupid game_

**From: Blaine**

_It’s not as fun without u next to me. Come back_

Kurt rolled his eyes.

**To: Blaine**

_Not even if you paid me, Blaine Anderson._

He imagined it’d probably be hard. One day, he just might marry this guy. This guy was more than likely going to go pro – Blaine was one of the top college running backs in the country. Kurt imagined that would mean he’d probably have to be able to at least sit through a football game, not to mention the Super Bowl. But if even perks like awesome halftime performances with Katy Perry and confused dancing sharks could keep him invested, then what could? Blaine’s ass in those football pants would eventually lose their magic on him, he imagined. Well, maybe not, but he knew he’d have to start _liking_ football at some point.

Just not today.

The movie continued. Kurt always wanted to be Meryl Streep when he was younger, and the more he watched this film, the stronger that desire grew. He clutched his pillow a little closer as the door to his basement room opened. The sounds of upstairs crept inside and he realized that within the past 20 minutes, he forgot that they were even up there being ridiculous.

It was a lovely 20 minutes.

But now, Blaine was walking down the steps. He smiled at Kurt and removed the cap on his head, placing it on a chair that was already piled with clothes before approaching.

“Are you really not coming back upstairs? You’re going to miss the halftime show.”

Kurt shrugged. “Clips will be all over the internet within the hour.”

Blaine climbed onto the bed, hovering over Kurt who was still beneath the covers. He smelled like beer and candy, and his lips looked really pretty.

“I miss you.”

“No you don’t,” Kurt said with feigned disinterest. He tried to see past Blaine because one of his favorite scenes was on, but his boyfriend only continued to block the television. “You have my dad, your best friend, and the biggest sport event of the country all upstairs. You’re fine.”

“Okay but none of those things you just mentioned is you,” Blaine replied, kissing him softly on the cheek. Kurt smiled at him.

“You’re not doing this, Blaine…”

He could feel Blaine smiling against his cheek before kissing him again. Kurt had dealt with this since before they were together… when they were only messing around. He knew when Blaine was about to ruin him. And when lips pressed to where his jaw met his neck, Kurt shook his head again.

“Stop that.”

“What am I doing?” Blaine whispered in his ear. Kurt didn’t want to laugh, but he did because it tickled. He grabbed one of his pillows and whacked Blaine across the side of the face with it.

“You’re so predictable, you know that?”

Blaine’s triangle eyebrows rose a little higher with his curiosity. “Am I, now? Tell me more.”

“You’re going to try to come down here, be sexy and kiss me like that, turn me on, and then as soon as the commercial break is over—” Blaine kissed Kurt before he could finish the sentence, and then it got a little deeper, but Kurt pulled away laughing. Blaine bit his lip into a smile. “Stop. I’m serious.”

“Alright.”

Kurt rolled his eyes away. He hated how Blaine could make him laugh even when he was trying to be serious. And he hated how Blaine was looking at him right now. But nope. Kurt arched his head to the side and watched the movie, mouthing along with Anne Hathaway’s words.

“So you’re just going to leave me upstairs alone, and then you’re going to ignore me?” Blaine pouted.

Kurt ignored him.

Blaine laid down flat on top of him and buried his face in Kurt’s neck. Kurt knew this trick. They’d been together for almost two years now, and Blaine had tried it time and time again. He felt a couple kisses on his neck, and then Blaine was ever so subtly pressing against his thigh. Kurt continued to ignore him at first, but after a minute, Blaine’s hand was lowering the cover between them.

Kurt bit his lip.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” Blaine asked. When he didn’t get an answer, he lifted his head to look Kurt in the eyes.

Kurt shrugged. “It feels good.”

Blaine leant in and closed the distance between them. Their lips were on each other’s and Kurt could taste the bud light every time Blaine deepened it. His breathing hitched slightly as Blaine slid his hand between them; over the fabric of his shirt, feeling each abdomen muscle as he went along. He was sure Blaine didn’t know that he was only in his boxers underneath the sheets, and the pleased _‘mm’_ that came from his throat when he found out made Kurt thrust up a little.

Yeah. He was getting hard. And the way Blaine was rubbing against him was doing nothing but making it worse. Or better. It all depended on how you looked at it.

“How’s that feel?” Blaine asked as his hand teased the skin at the waistband of Kurt’s boxers.

Boy, did it feel good. Kurt licked his lower lip as he waited for Blaine to move his fingers a little bit lower. Another inch would be all it took, but this man was a tease. Of course.

The door opened and it was Finn’s voice that entered.

“Halftime show is on! Tell Kurt Lady Gaga is on or something. He’ll come back then.”

Kurt eyes popped open. _You’ve got to be kidding me_ , he thought. “I can definitely hear you, Finn.”

“I’ll be back later,” Blaine said. He pulled his hand back to himself and hopped up, smirking as he winked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” This time, Kurt said it aloud. “Blaine—”

“Do you want to come with?” The look on his face was a mixture of innocence and ignorance. There was a little arrogance in there, too. Kurt wanted to throw more than just the pillow at him, but instead, he took a deep breath.

“If that’s how you want to play it, then fine. I will _not_ forget this.”

“You’re being a tad bit dramatic, Hummel.”

Kurt seriously wanted to punch him in the nuts. “Go enjoy your football game, dear.”

Blaine laughed as he took a few steps back towards the steps. “I love you.”

“Bye, Blaine.”

The nerve of some people. Kurt watched Blaine laugh as he jogged up the steps, leaving him there in bed horny and aggravated. Blaine called Kurt the tease in the relationship, but he was obviously wrong.

But two could definitely play that game.

Once the door was closed, he calmly got up, adjusted the hard-on in his underwear, and climbed the steps to the basement door. He turned the knob slowly, just to peek out at everyone. Carole had just returned from work and was walking over to the sofa, Blaine was retaking his seat beside Finn, and Burt was getting up to kiss his wife hello.

Kurt quietly closed the door and locked it. Then, he smiled to himself.

Maybe he could make Super Bowl Sunday a little fun after all.

He turned on his floor lamp as soon as he was back downstairs before walking over to his desk. Staring back at him was the makeup bag Tina left a couple days ago after they all had a sleepover together, just like old times. He didn’t think she’d mind if he…

Kurt unzipped it and pulled out eyeliner. He looked in the mirror and smiled to himself.

_You’re a genius, Hummel._

Next, he lost the shirt. This would be an important part in all of this.

Finally, he went back to his bed and climbed underneath the covers, letting the comforter rest just below his navel. Right as he took the photo, he got a text from Blaine.

**From: Blaine**

_U better not be mad at me ^_^ It was all good fun_

Kurt smirked, ignoring the message for now. He made sure to mess up his hair (which was already a little crazy thanks to doing next to nothing all day) for the next photo. This one was good. He had the blue in his eyes popping from the eyeliner, his nipples were a bit hard, his lips were still a bit kiss-swollen. Blaine would probably like this one.

**From: Blaine**

_This performance isn’t all that great, anyway. I probably have a good 15 minutes before the third quarter if you want to finish what we started ;)_

Kurt smirked, attaching the last photo into the message and writing a reply.

**To: Blaine**

_*pic* I would love for you to come back. I miss u…_

It had to be the fastest reply Kurt had ever gotten.

**From: Blaine**

_Ohm yg od_

**From: Blaine**

_Is that eyeliner? Fuck that’s hot._

Kurt bit his lip and waited a little more. It wasn’t much of a wait before he heard Blaine’s attempt at trying to open the door.

**From: Blaine**

_Your door is locked. Why is your door locked?_

Kurt smiled to himself, lowering the covers even more and placing his hand over the bulge in his boxers. He snapped a picture and sent that one too.

**To: Blaine**

_*pic* Oh? I must’ve locked it after you left._

Kurt smiled, laying back and relaxing as he knew his asshole of a boyfriend was probably standing outside his door like a puppy. Payback was so, so sweet.

The phone started ringing beside him and he laughed as Blaine’s photo popped up on screen. For a second, Kurt really considered answering, but instead, he let it go to voicemail.

**From: Blaine**

_I don’t believe u right now…_

Kurt smirked.

**To: Blaine**

_How’s the game?_

**From: Blaine**

_Open the door, Kurt._

Kurt sent another picture. His boyfriend replied with distressed emojis.

**To: Blaine**

_Seriously. Go enjoy the game. I’d hate to distract you from the biggest game of the year! :-)_

**From: Blaine**

_This isn’t even funny. I’m sorry… let me in :-(_

Kurt was quite proud of himself, but he had no plans on letting Blaine in any time soon. In fact, he was just getting started. Besides, he didn’t want to miss any more of _The Devil Wears Prada._

Blaine continued to text, and Kurt sent him a new photo every five minutes. He’d occasionally ask how the game was going, but Blaine wouldn’t really answer those messages. He was more interested with gaining access to the basement again.

He stepped out of his boxers, walked over to the full-length mirror on his wall, and started snapping away. Kurt mulled over the choices when he walked back over to his bed and decided to send two this time—one of the front with his hands pulling at his brown hair, and one of the back with his legs spread a little.

**From: Blaine**

_The team I wanted to win is getting their asses kicked. Your brother and father are making fun of me. I’m wearing these sweatpants so you know I have a sofa pillow over my lap right now. You’re sending me these sexy pictures and I’m harder than I’ve been in a while. You weren’t even this mean to me when we were states away, yet now I’m in the same house as you and you are torturing me._

**From: Blaine**

_Your ass looks so good._

**From: Blaine**

_I would make you sit on my face if you let me in._

**From: Blaine**

_And when you do let me in, you’re leaving that eyeliner on while we fuck. Just so you know._

Kurt read the thread of messages and replied with another photo. Now, he had his hand wrapped around his cock.

**To: Blaine**

_Fuck you, Kurt._

He laughed, getting out of bed and quietly climbing the steps. He could still hear his phone buzzing and chiming from his boyfriend’s angsty messages as he unlocked the door, and crept back downstairs hopefully without Blaine knowing.

**From: Blaine**

_Maybe you shouldn’t let me in because I’d probably try and swallow your dick whole and nobody wants that_

**From: Blaine**

_I know this is not how one is supposed to sext but my god your cock is so hard. And it’s leaking a little bit._

**From: Blaine**

_I just want to kiss it. btw the offer to sit on my face and ride it still stands._

**From: Blaine**

_Update: my team FINALLY scored. But guess who didn’t score. ME_

Kurt laughed as he settled underneath the sheets again. He looked up at the TV and figured if they were about to do this, he should probably turn off this movie. He didn’t need Meryl Streep watching as he and his boyfriend took turns riding each other.

**To: Blaine**

_Come here_

It wasn’t a full minute before the door swung open and then closed again. Kurt smiled, turning the TV off and getting comfortable on the pillows. Blaine practically jumped down the stairs, and Kurt wanted to yell at him because ‘hey, you’re an athlete and you could’ve broken your neck, you idiot’ but before he could say anything, Blaine had literally torn the covers off of him, tossed them to the end of the bed, and attached his mouth to Kurt’s cock.

“Well hello,” Kurt teased, folding his hands beneath his head.

Blaine wasn’t even cute about it. He started deepthroating _immediately._ After a few seconds, he looked up at Kurt as he blew him and pulled away with a loud _pop_.

“You look so hot right now. I’m mad at you for torturing me, and after I finish sucking your dick, eating your ass, and bending you over your wardrobe, I intend to let you know.”

Kurt shrugged as he moved Blaine’s head back to where it belonged. He closed his eyes and smiled, thrusting up every once in a while.

Stupid Super Bowl – O. Kurt Hummel – 1.

-x-

“Papa?”

Kurt looked up at his son as Stiles gave him a knowing look. He shook his head of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry… what were we talking about?”

Stiles pulled off his shoulder pads and put them next to his jersey. He was number 21, just like his dad. “I asked if you were going to Uncle Mike and Aunt Tina’s Super Bowl party with us. I know you have a show on Sunday but it doesn’t start until 6.”

Kurt smiled a little as he watched his pre-teen get ready for the shower. Super Bowl Sunday had become one of his favorite traditions many years ago... “You know how much I love the Super Bowl, Stiles.”

His son laughed. “We all know you hate football when Dad isn’t playing, or when I’m not playing.”

Kurt shrugged. “I like it for _other_ reasons. Now get in the shower. Dad will be back with Olivia soon and we’re going to have dinner.”

Stiles pushed his curly hair back a bit and nodded. “Yes sir. Oh, by the way…”

Kurt had gotten up to leave, but turned back around when his son spoke. “What’s up?”

The short boy smirked at him. “Grandpa already told us that you and Dad are going to disappear at halftime.”


End file.
